bringing the wind home
by kazeno
Summary: Sometimes they just don't leave... [parts II-IV 21/8]
1. I;

bringing the wind home [preview]

[denna lockehart]

**I;**

The wind was birthed in the tropical heat of Balamb, air fleeing the hot island summer for places to the south. It swirled among the houses, set dangling ornaments chiming, and brought a breath of much-needed air to the sweating inhabitants. It swirled over the broad plains, gathering speed, and paid a visit to the new SeeD Garden that was being reworked form the Centra shelter that it had once been. Stronger now, it rattled the walls of the makeshift shelters built to house the SeeDs working on the Garden. Swiftly it sped across the ocean, gathering and losing speed and strength. Passing a small boat, it dipped within briefly to touch the silvered hair of the child sleeping in another's arms. At last, it swept across an expanse of sand, ruffling the blond hair of the child sitting on a rock before dashing against the cliff above.

Seifer Almasy looked up, feeling for a moment as if something had looked him over. The blond-headed boy was seated on a rock—on _his rock—on the beach, soaking in the sun. He liked sun. Sunlight made him feel good, and he didn't mind if he got sunburnt, which was rare anyways. It let him forget things like Katrina, the irritating SeeD cadet who wouldn't let him play in the lighthouse, even when explained to that Matron had placed a barrier around the long-since glassless windows. SeeDs weren't particularly inclined to trust in magic, and considering that Guardian Forces supposedly erased memory and Sorceresses blew up this half of the world in the Centra war, it wasn't surprising._

The sound of childish yells and delighted laughter floated down to his ears from the orphanage above. Deliberately ignoring them, Seifer stared resolutely out to sea. He'd been dumped on the orphanage after his parents died (no choice of his), and so had everybody else, but he didn't fit in with them. He was _better than them. Better than bossy Quistis, always telling everybody what to do, or Irvine, who kept following her around, or Zell and Selphie, the babies. Squall was better, but __he was always crying for his Sis. The way Raijin kept following Seifer around was pathetic, too, but there was something different about him, something that hinted at lightning-crackle and the smell of ozone in his periodic dark moods and his gently innocent façade. _

The noise behind him made him jump, and Seifer whirled, eyes adjusting to the shadows at the base of the cliff as he made out the little girl picking her way carefully between the rocks down to the beach. She was muttering to herself: this was what had startled him. The child was about Seifer's age, and frail--too frail from her appearance to be clambering down rocks. Bruises mottled the pale skin exposed by a white child's dress too large for her—an old one of Quistis', Seifer recognized—that, coupled with pale silvery-white hair, made her look like a ghost. A bandage barely a shade or two paler than her skin occupied a large part of her forehead, obscuring one eye. 

_Oh, ick, was Seifer's thought. __Another crybaby._

_ The girl didn't seem to notice him, just kept climbing down, continuing to mutter to herself in some language Seifer couldn't catch, which seemed to feature heavy use of the word __kaze, or something that sounded like it. When she reached the beach, she raised her hands and lifted her head to the wind; the look of relief that lit up the single pale red eye was obvious. _

"Hello?" Seifer ventured. This girl evoked the same feelings in him that Raijin did sometimes, that otherworldly feeling of barely-leashed power checked by a frayed thread of sanity; Raijin displayed that dark snap whenever there was a storm; this girl displayed it now, face tilted into the wind, soaking it up like Seifer soaked up sunlight, bringing to mind both the gentle grasstipped breeze of the plains and the screaming stormwinds at the same time.

"Helloooo?" Seifer repeated, standing up. He found himself forcibly evicted from that position in a matter of seconds, transferred to a position lying on his back against the rock with the surprisingly strong little girl pinning his wrists to said rock. "Hey!" he protested, pushing up; the girl let go of him as if burnt, and jumped back a few steps before looking back, chin abruptly tilted up to pin him with a proud gaze. The more he watched her, the more he realized she was like, and yet unlike him.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Seifer said, raising both hands. "It's all right."

The girl stepped back another few steps, then stopped, looking at him quizzically. "_He'lesh'ya?" she asked, or maybe it __sounded like she asked; he had no idea what she was saying._

"Umm…" Seifer blinked at her. "Seifer," he said, pointing to himself. It was comical, and he felt like a fool doing it, but he did it anyway. "Seifer," he repeated, pointing again. The little girl blinked, then she pointed at him.

"Seifer," she said.

"Yeah, Seifer. You?" He pointed at her, and tried to convey the question on his face. A silvered head cocked questioningly, and then she pointed at herself, still looking questioning.

"Fujin," she said in a light musical voice roughened with a strange timbre. Point, again. "Fujin."

"Fujin," Seifer repeated. 

And he met the girl's eyes squarely, and he knew he'd found an equal.

A/N: Set partially in the _Elemental Cycle, this fic borrows bits from it while ignoring others, because said cycle in my opinion now sucks. Basically this happens after __Wind Spirit—Fujin wounded by her dear daddy, her mother dead, Edea saves them et yadda, with the exception that she does not name Fujin on the way back but instead uses her common name in the village, Eleanor. Fujin was named Fujin by her mother, not her father. It's her… secret name. (ahem as for why she gave her name to seifer… well, I **was** a saifuu author, after all, and still am, except there's only so many saifuu fics you can write so I've moved on to lisawk and koren-worship) This is just preview, there's more coming. _


	2. II; III; IV;

**II;**

            Fujin—or Eleanor as Matron had introduced her (what a dumb name!)—fit into orphanage life pretty well, inasmuch as she blended well into the background. The little girl often took to joining Squall in the shadows, watching the rest of them play. Seifer, too, found his little private space frequently invaded by her, not that he minded it. Fujin was so unassuming that often one did not even notice she was there. Raijin, like Seifer, had seen Fujin for what she was immediately, stared at her (she stared back, of course) over ten feet of dusty yard and gone away satisfied. The silent child had ignored just about everyone else, even Edea (who, Seifer overheard, was equally stumped as to what language she spoke, and was trying vainly to teach her English). Seifer, too, had tried his best to get Fujin addicted to knight movies, to no avail. She was _not a romantic girl._

             "Seifer, too much of that will rot your brain." Matron sounded uncommonly nettled, possibly because she had just finished trying to communicate with the recalcitrant silver-haired newcomer. Said boy looked up from the television screen where two knights in shining (but slightly rusty) armor were busily challenging each other. 

            "But _Matron," he whined. Honor was one thing, but Seifer wasn't above whining when it suited his purposes._

            "No buts." Edea put her foot down firmly. "Go play in the lighthouse or something; I need to talk with your Uncle Cid." _Oh, so that's it. She wants us all out so she can talk about grown—up—things with Uncle Cid. As Seifer switched off the television and watched the player spit the little tape back out into his hand, Edea moved through the small house, chasing all little prying eyes and ears out into the sunshine. Stowing the tape safely in its little drawer, Seifer heard Edea calling him from the door._

            "Seifer, have you seen Eleanor?" 

            "Eleanor who?" Seifer had decided long ago not to acknowledge the use of this patently silly name for Fujin, who had a perfectly good one already. Raijin had been ignoring it too, anyway. 

            "You know who Eleanor is."

            "I dunno."

            Matron raised an eyebrow. "All right, go and find her, then. Play with her or something." The dark-haired woman bent and kissed Seifer gently on his cheek, then gave him a boot on the arse. "Now run along, dear."

            Seifer scowled—he hated it when Matron treated him like a child—but he ran along.

            Fujin was in the lighthouse; that much Squall would say before he clammed up again. The others were talking about playing tag down on the beach, so he'd have had to go to the lighthouse anyway just to escape the incoming gaggle of screaming kids. Taking the steps two at a time (telling himself all the way that he wasn't exactly _obeying_ Matron, he just wanted to do it), Seifer ran out of breath halfway u, and had to walk slowly the rest of the way, hanging on to the railing.

            At the top, the gold-headed boy shoved upwards on the little hatch that obligingly gave way so that he could clamber out into the tower room a little dizzy from the dash up the spiral staircase. He didn't notice what Fujin was doing at first, but when he did, he yelled in surprise and yanked the girl away from the window. She'd been pushing against the barrier spell, prying it apart with pale fingers. It was a lesser-known weakness of shield or protect spells that they could be broken by steady pressure from a dull object when any amount of hitting or slashing with the heaviest of swords wouldn't work. Matron had warned them about it; but how could Fujin have known?

            Only then did he realize what Fujin had been trying to reach. Outside, around the lighthouse, something swirled, circling the confines of the protect spell like a wild beast circling its cage. It was trying to get in, Seifer knew as surely as he knew sunlight was good. Wind battered against the spell, one-two-three times in quick succession. Fujin tore away from his grasp, reaching a hand out towards the spell-wall and slowly digging her fingers through. Seifer could only watch, sick with fear and the certainty that the little girl would poke her hand all the way through and shatter the spell and they would all be blown down and dashed to bits on the rocks below in front of Squally and the others' eyes. 

            Silvery light coalesced around the little girl's fingers, taking the form of fingers curling around her small ones. The rest of the being drew itself together in a shimmer of particles—a woman, indistinct and ghostly, with long hair and a pair of silvery-wings arching out from her shoulderblades. Fujin wasn't smiling—she never smiled—but there was an odd twitch to her lips as her small fingers curled around otherworldly ones.

            The shimmering woman-shape pulsed once, fingers seeming to squeeze her small hand once, and then it dissolved, swirling away on the wind in a shower of sparks to leave the two children behind.

III;

            "One year," Edea said worriedly, shaking her head as she looked out the window at the children playing in the yard. Fujin and Squall were standing opposite each other, both hidden in the shadows. Squall was part of the shadow itself, dark blending back into dark, while Fujin seemed to draw the shadows around her to hide her pale skin. The little girl had taken a liking to the color blue, and now insisted on blue clothing with gestures and flat refusals to wear anything not in her chosen color. Right now, the scrawny child was attired in an old shirt of Edea's in a very dark shade of black-blue, long enough to serve as skirt and camouflage. Her ruined eye was covered by a makeshift bandage or eyepatch of black cloth. As Edea watched, the small figure doubled over in a coughing fit before straightening and wiping her hand off on her gifted shirt.

            "I'm sure she'll be fine, Edea." With a sigh Cid moved behind her, fingers seeking out the knots of tension in her shoulders and kneading them out. Edea sighed as well, leaning back trustingly.

            "I'm sorry to dump this on you, dear, but it _is_ worrying. I thought the malnutrition and other things would clear up, but she has been getting thinner although she eats as much as any of the other children, and she has been sick twice as much as any of them. If this keeps on going, I really don't know what will happen." Edea's voice had been getting increasingly shrill, and Cid gave up on the massage and simply enveloped his wife in a hug.

            "Don't worry, 'Dea, it'll be all right." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Perhaps her body is just weak—"

            "Don't you think I've _checked_? There is _nothing_ weak about her but… I have been thinking, that maybe it is an outside force. The villagers mentioned her being bad luck and her mother being a witch—perhaps the poor woman was a minor sorceress or a sorceress _in potentia_, and summoned something or other by mistake… I think I should go back and ask them. Do you think you could watch this place for me, Cid?" The Garden headmaster frowned.

            "Well, the GF-integration process needs watching, but---" he saw his wife's harried look and amended swiftly "—but one of the senior SeeDs can do it. I needed a vacation anyway."

            Edea laughed. "I would not exactly term this a _vacation_."

            "Oh, I relish it. At least they're not trying to ambush you in the halls with training weapons."

            "Seifer might do that."

            "Speaking of Seifer, isn't he the one who spends the most time with Fujin?" (Seifer had, upon the hundreth or so time of Matron's calling Fujin 'Eleanor', finally exploded and yelled that "Stupid Eleanor isn't her stupid name, stupid!" upon which he was promptly made to sit facing the corner for two hours for yelling at Matron and calling her names.)

            "Yes…"

            "Then perhaps he knows something. I'll ask."

IV;

            Selphie was happy. She and Zell and Raijin spun gaily, linked hands joining them together until the links broke under the constant spinning and their hands sprang apart, sending the three of them sprawling to the dusty soft _wonderful_ ground of the yard.

            Selphie giggled, letting herself sprawl out full, length, getting dusty all over but not caring one whit, ignoring the small rocks and stuff that dug into her side. Raijin was equally giggly, but he scrambled to his feet almost immediately, straightening the baggy pants he'd taken a liking to. Zell, unsurprisingly, had probably hit something hard on the ground, because he pushed himself up into a sitting position and promptly started to bawl loudly, clutching the battered moogle doll he carried everywhere to him. Raijin ran over immediately, solicitously trying to help, but Zell seemed to only howl louder.

            The little brunette child shook her head sadly. Zell was always like that. Why couldn't he be _happy_? The little girl scrambled up and started to walk toward the two boys, but stopped and blinked in surprise as she saw Uncle Cid talking with Seifer in the shadow of the doorway. Uncle Cid _never_ talked with Seifer. Seifer didn't like Uncle Cid very much. Seifer seemed to get more and more agitated with each word Uncle Cid said until he finally shot something at Uncle Cid and ran off towards the rocky passage down to the beach. Uncle Cid sighed, and then spotted Selphie watching and waved to her. 

            Selphie waved back gaily. Life was good.

A/N 21/8/2002: Yes, Lockehart's been a lazy girl. Sue her. Perhaps thou should not expect too much from her; that ways thou wilt not be disappointed so. 


	3. V; VI; VII; VIII; IX; X.

V;

            The little boy hugged the large rock as if it was a person; arms splayed wide against the sunwarmed rock, letting it warm him in return. It couldn't be true, could it? Would it? What Cid had said—that Fujin was sick, and she'd die… He'd promised her, though, promised her never to tell, promised never to say to another anything about the times the wind could come to play with her, with silver wings and flying clothing trailing silver sparkles that hung shimmering in the air (hope). Promised.

            But she was dying—

VI;

            Edea stepped off the small transport manned by the painfully young, but competent SeeD from the newly completed Balamb Garden (what times are these, that we use _children_…). The village was small and squalid, barely a muddy road with ramshackle houses straddling it and chickens and pigs running around in the road. Hard to believe that places like this could still exist in the supposedly civilized and technologically advanced world, but there it was.

            Some of the villagers looked up curiously as she passed, then turned back to their work, be it washing clothes, hanging clothes up to dry, gardening, or plain sitting on the steps of their houses that looked like a good breath would topple them. Those children who were running around freely were quickly called back home, the shutters and doors slammed down. The rest simply stood and stared unfriendly stares at the sorceress as she moved down the street. 

            The space that had held the small house Edea remembered was empty of all but ruins and memories. Fire-blackened timbers clawed blindly at the sky, ashes carpeted the ground with a black layer of desolation, and footprints stamped in the ashes showed where the townspeople had trampled over the area, probably searching for valuables. Even in this fire-scorched wasteland, there were bits of green poking resolutely through the black carpet that showed every sign of becoming a green carpet. Edea _touched_ them as she passed, not with her hands but with mind, sorceress power fluttering out on wide wings to impart them with the strength they would need. 

            "Y'd'be th'witch, ain't ya? Th'witch who took 'way my 'Leanor?" The man looked more haggard than she remembered, a half-growth of beard bristling on his chin, eyes bloodshot and dark-rimmed. There was a bottle in his hand as he weaved unsteadily towards her, the townsfolk parting unspoken for the fallen one.

            "You would be the man," Edea responded evenly. "The one who wounded her."

            He winced, too obvious. Townspeople who had parted in front of him gathered now behind him, watching the large man stumbling drunkenly towards the small, frail-looking woman in the neutral gray dress. Small and frail, but by no means defenseless, as they had discovered a year ago.

            "'M sorry. You'll tel'er that, willya? Really… really sorry." Drunk, very drunk, but there was still a bitter regretful tone to that voice. Edea would have felt sorry for him, but there were some things that could not be forgiven.

            "Sorry will not cure her or bring your wife back," she said unsympathetically.

            "Yeah," he said, "But just… jus' tell her I'm sorry."

            He weaved off through the townsfolk and was gone, and Edea felt as though she should have seen blood somewhere.

VII;

            "U-Uncle Cid?" Query; tremulous and hesitant.

            "What is it, Seifer?" Response/question; curious.

            "I've been thinking 'bout what you said…" Opening statement; thoughtful.

            "And?" Prompt; understanding.

            "I'll tell you 'bout Fujin." Statement; quietly resigned.

VIII;

            "Edea! I've got something to tell you—"

            "Cid! There's something you should know about Fu—"

            Both broke off at the same time, and then smiled at their simultaneous explosion of words. "You first," Edea suggested archly, "Since I can probably guess what you are going to tell me, you might as well confirm it.

            "Fujin has a ghost. Not _her_ ghost, but someone else that keeps following her. Someone she knows, probably—Seifer says that she isn't afraid of it and seems to welcome it. Besides which, what he describes distinctly reminds me of you when I first met you—all mystic and sensing strange things."

            Edea smiled faintly. "Why do you think I kept them all this late? The rest I sent to the mainland orphanage. They're sorceress- or knight-potential, all of them. Irvine has less potential, and Raijin oddly feels more like sorceress- than knight-potential, but the point is that I am comfortable with them. We are all magical to some extent, every one of use here at this orphanage, and we get along better with each other. Normal people would feel uncomfortable around us, but we are comfortable around each other. But I digress. I spoke to the townspeople—based on what they told me, I believe that Fujin's mother was also sorceress-potential, perhaps more. Maybe she was a natural sorceress."

            "And her sorceress powers however minor let her bind herself to her child?"

            "To protect her, I think. The problem lies in the fact that no mortal can hold enough power to stay on the living plane like this. I suspect Fujin's mother has been using Fujin's strength to keep herself here—thus causing the girl to be weak not physically but spiritually. That is why I sensed nothing wrong. Fujin may well be a natural sorceress—this kind of power is usually hereditary."

            "Hmm… Is that why she and Seifer seem drawn to each other? He has some natural power too, doesn't he?"

            "Yes, and Raijin, I think. I would not be surprised if the three of them become best friends. This kind of strength tends to attract each other."

            "So—"

            "We have to send her back."

IX;

            Seifer grinned, kicking his heels in the sea. Beside him, Raijin laughed out loud, splashing large dark hands in the salty seawater and flinging handfuls of sand out to sea. Behind them Fujin was a quiet gray presence, leashed wind sitting quietly on his rock staring out to sea. As time went by, Seifer found that he minded Raijin less and less, almost as if he was growing accustomed to the boy's simplemindedness.

            A few yards down the beach, the rest of the orphanage crew frolicked gaily in the water, laughing and playing and splashing water on each other. One of the young SeeDs that had come with Cid watched them while holding on to his handful of slippery Zell. The little boy had gotten sand in his eye earlier and had fled to the SeeD in Matron's absence. His eye dealt to, Zell refused to budge from the SeeD's presumably comfortable lap, happily playing with a hapless crab. The SeeD was too spineless to just put him down.

            A brush of wind past his cheek, too _solid_ to be real wind, announced the presence of the being Raijin nicknamed Ruiya, after the sorceress said to hold particular mastery over wind in the Centra wars. Ruiya had apparently become accustomed to Raijin and Seifer, frequently appearing before Fujin even when they were there. In company, as they were now, she would curl around Fujin, and indistinct shimmer in the air.

            Seifer's grin faded form his face as his eyes swept across Fujin and the shimmer of wind that surrounded her. Fujin and her—what? What was it, anyway? He still wasn't sure of his telling Cid about Fujin's… visitor. The feeling that he was betraying her wouldn't be shaken. Was Cid lying to him? If Cid lied, then he—he'd _whap_ him one! Hard. A wide grin spread across Seifer's face at the thought of hitting Cid. He'd never like the guy anyway. Matron was _theirs_. No man would take her away from them. And if Cid tried to take Ruiya away, Seifer'd defend her, for Fuj's sake. It was what a knight would do.

            "Matron!" The childish yell alerted them to the arrival of the woman who was almost their mother. The shimmer uncurled itself and brushed past Seifer again on its way back out to sea.

            Fujin screamed.

            Everything happened at once. Seifer and Raijin both whirled; Seifer leapt up and ran to Fujin, while Raijin gaped at the figure forming where that shimmer of wind had been, the woman with long silvery hair and the pair of wings scattering feathers that vanished in seconds. Edea half-ran down the path to the beach, hiking her skirts up, Cid preceding her. The silvery woman was writhing, caught in the grip of something net-like and shining golden to her silver.

            Seifer reached Fujin; grabbed her shoulders in panic and shook her. The little girl's teeth clacked together once and she fell silent, breath heaving like a trapped animal in her chest. Abruptly she shoved at Seifer and ran past him, reaching towards the shimmering shape outlined in gold. Squall and the others were staring in shock, frozen in their positions watching the drama unfolding on the beach—even the young SeeD. A dark form swept the running girl up: Cid, brown hair flying in the suddenly strong wind that tore at all of them as if trying to blow them off the face of the earth. 

            _No!_ He launched himself at Cid, aware only of the wind and Fujin's screaming (but he thought she _stopped_?) and his promise to himself. _If Cid tries_—Cid, trying to hold on to Fujin—kicking and screaming—grabbed Seifer's arm. Seifer promptly tried to kick Cid in the nuts. Missed (too bad). _If Cid tries_ _to_—He tried again. Edea was a shadow moving down the beach towards the trapped shape. Cid was trained, but not even he could deal with two screaming kids and an equally screaming wind without harming said kids. Fujin tore free—almost—Cid snagged her arm as she tried to run, and Seifer latched on to Cid's arm and bit him, that being his only weapon. Edea was talking to the gold-and-silver figure, quick urgent words like _love_, and _loss_, and _hurting her by your presence_. _If Cid tried to take Ruiya away, I'll_—Fujin took advantage of Cid's response to the bite to yank free a second time, tearing out of Cid's reach only to be caught by the SeeD who'd finally woken up form his shock. With Fujin caught, Cid was free to turn his attention on Seifer, immobilizing the boy easily without the added distraction of Fujin, and suddenly, the wind.

            _If he tried to take Ruiya away from Fujin_—

            Ruiya flowed over the sands; Edea stood where she had been, a sad look on her face. The—ghost?—stopped in front of Fujin; the SeeD released the girl and Ruiya hugged her almost tenderly.

            _I'll defend her, 'cause that's what a knight would do_—

            The wind-ghost flowed away. Turned, as if unwilling. Smiled a last time and faded into nothingness, peacefully. Fujin started to wail.

            _But if she wanted to go, I'd let her_—

            _'Cause that's what a person would do_—

X;

            Seifer Almasy looked up in surprise as wind skimmed across his face—_almost solid, like Ruiya's touch. He blinked at the little dark object that carved a curving trail of displaced air out over the water, and followed that action by flailing desperately at the air as he lost his balance in his surprise and slid unstoppably down the side of _his_ rock to land flat on his back in the warm sand._

            He heard Raijin's delighted laugh just before the darkskinned boy appeared in his field of vision grinning, wide brown innocent eyes sparkling guilelessly. "You did it, Fuj! Ya startled the boss!" Seifer wanted to laugh, but forced himself to choke the laughter before it exploded out. It was an admission of weakness and in invitation for more of the same.

            "Very funny, Raijin. Help me up, will you?" As much as it galled him to accept help—

            Behind Raijin, Fujin was a quiet palpable presence in the blue shirt she favored and loose black pants borrowed form Squall. She smiled, a bare twitching of her lips as she held up the little dark object—a boomerang, one of the things that Edea had brought back from her recent trip to Balamb and promptly commandeered by Fujin. The tiny silverheaded girl had barely spoken since her mother (Edea had explained most of it to the children) had left, but she _had_ gotten better and lost that haunted, underfed look. She'd finally started learning English, too.

            As the most excitable member of their little group went on to pick up the seashells washed up on the beach, Seifer grinned at Fujin, not worrying about showing weakness. They were _equals_, after all. The girl smiled suddenly; a real smile, not a mere twitching of her lips. Her free hand dove swiftly into one of the voluble pockets of her trousers and brought out something round.

            "What's that?" Seifer asked, and she showed him.

            Light glided off the faintly translucent ball nestled in the center of Fujin's palm, lighting up the curves of pale flesh around it. It glimmered, seeming to pulse with inner life. There was a silvery swirl in the center; for just a moment, Seifer thought he saw Ruiya's figure, shimmer-wings and hair and body, and then it was gone. Fujin smiled again.

            She said: "Pandemona."

A/R (author's rant) 22/8: Unknown to anyone but myself, I once had this series of GF-origin stories written. Y'see, GFs in FF8 were, like, just _things_, which is not really very good. Considering that FF8 has so many holes in the history, it's the job of us fanfiction authors to fill said holes up, and one of said holes is "where does a (all) GF(s) come from?" I had this idea thought out that GFs were 'created by Hyne to aid people in some big battle in the future et yadda yadda'. I had a series planned and all stuff, but, oh… Some time ago I rooted out the old idea, and had this little flash of a scene that would go, Fuj and Seifer together, and Fujin holds out this GF and says, "Pandemona," blah fun stuff, and the result… well, you've just read it. Incidentally, this fic has ten parts, the same as the FF series (at the time I wrote it, anyway). ^__


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